


Epics

by Lucy Gillam (cereta)



Category: Epics - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cereta/pseuds/Lucy%20Gillam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes stories intertwine.  Sometimes, you get to make your own ending.  Blair reads to Jim after a shooting leaves him critically injured.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epics

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very old story, in more ways than one. I still like it ;).

"I will proclaim to the world the deeds of Gilgamesh. This was the man to whom all things were known; this was the king who knew the countries of the world. He was wise, he saw mysteries and knew secret things, he brought us a tale of days before the flood. He went on a long journey, was weary, worn out with labor, returning he rested, he engraved on a stone the whole story."

The only sound in the small hospital room was the faint whisper of a respirator, which surprised Simon until he saw Sandburg's head resting on the edge of the bed. It was probably the first sleep the kid had gotten since they'd brought Jim to this hospital 36 hours ago. Simon tried to set his burdens down gently so as not to wake him.

"Jim?" Blair's head jerked up, causing his chair to scrape back a few noisy inches.

"Sorry, Blair, just me." Simon set the duffel bag by the chair. "Brought you some stuff from the loft, since getting you to go home is apparently out of the question. The nurses say they'll let you use a shower in one of the empty rooms. They say the smell is becoming unhygienic."

"Thanks, man. Is there any word on who..." Blair swallowed hard, gripping Jim's hand.

"Nothing solid. We're working on a few leads, people who might have a grudge against him, but it's a long list."

Blair nodded, his attention already focused back on the still form in the bed.

"Blair?" Simon laid a hand on the young man's shoulder, as much to steady him as to get his attention. Sandburg looked up, and Simon handed him the paper bag he'd carried in his other hand. "Here. It's from that pita place you like so much. Shawarma, extra garlic sauce, right?"

"Yeah." Blair tried for a smile. It wasn't much, but it was better than the look of near-despair his face had worn for the last day and a half. "Thanks, Simon. For everything."

"Yeah, well, when Jim wakes up, the first thing he's gonna ask me is if I took care of you. And he always knows when I'm lying." Simon chose not to tell the anthropologist that he and Jim had actually had this discussion, a mutual exchange of promises. If anything happened to Simon, Jim would look after Darryl. And if anything happened to Jim ...

Blair's smile was a little more genuine. "First thing I learned, man. Never try lying to a Sentinel."

"I have to go now, Blair. But you call me if there's any change. And watch yourself. Be sure..."

"To tell the guard officer where I'm going if I leave the room. I got it, Simon. I'll be careful."

Simon patted Blair's shoulder awkwardly, took one last look at his friend in the bed, and left the room. He managed to hold it together until he was out of the building and in his car. Once behind the wheel, he took a deep, shuddering breath. "God, Jim. Wake up. Just, please, wake up."

"Then Ninsun, who is well-beloved and wise, said to Gilgamesh, 'This star from heaven, which descended like a meteor from the sky; which you tried to lift, but found too heavy, when you tried to move it it would not budge, and so you brought it to my feet; I made it for you, a goad and a spur, and you were drawn to it as though to a woman. This is the strong comrade the one who brings help to his friend in his need.' "

Blair sat back on the couch that was conveniently behind him. Well, "sat" might be a bit generous: "fell back onto" was more accurate. His mouth opened once, then closed again.

// _Shit. Okay, Sandburg: words. You know, sounds that carry meaning? Those things you're supposed to be so good at? A few of those would be good now._ He resolutely sent commands to his lungs and vocal cords. They just as resolutely refused to obey.

Jim's hands were still twisting his on his beer bottle as if they might actually bend the glass.

 _Hell, why not?_ Blair thought. _Stranger things have happened. Stranger things just did happen._

Jim finally looked up at him and smiled self-deprecatingly. "I'm sorry. I thought of a million ways to do this. Flowers, a candlelight dinner. I even tried writing a letter. Nothing seemed right. I guess this wasn't either."

_Okay, I really need to say something now. Something profound would be nice. Elegant, poetic maybe. Rhyming is optional.* Nothing. *I'm sorry, Jim, I'm usually much better at this._

"If...if you want to leave, I'll understand," Jim continued. "But you don't have to. I'll respect whatever decision you make. I'll be okay." He stood, putting his beer bottle on the table and gesturing vaguely toward the door. "If you need to think, I can leave for a while."

Later, Ellison would swear that he never saw it coming. One moment, he was standing alone, the next, he had an armful of anthropologist, arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist, mouth fastened firmly on his. Not that he was complaining.//

As Jim's mouth opened under his, and his arms came around to hold and support him, Blair Sandburg decided that words were vastly overrated. 

Blair stuffed his shaving kit and dirty clothes into his duffel bag. He had to admit, he felt better after a meal and shower. No doubt the nurses would be glad. For that matter, so would Jim, considering he could tell when someone ten rows down in a movie theater hadn't used deodorant. Blair checked the other contents of the bag. He'd noticed earlier that Simon had packed some books. Not that he'd be able to read, but he was curious to see what the captain had chosen.

Joseph Campbell. Some books on Greek mythology. Simon must have just taken what was on the desk. Blair had been subbing for his advisor's Myths and Legends class while Dr. Krisher was out sick, and he'd been preparing a lecture on the western hero myth.

A thin, battered paperback caught his eye. _Ah, yes. Good old Gilgamesh._ He thumbed through the pages, which were marked with two previous owners worth of margin notes and highlighting.

"Hey, Jim," he asked, settling more comfortably in his chair, "want to hear one of the oldest stories known to humanity?"

"So Shamash accepted the sacrifice of his tears; like the compassionate man he showed him mercy. He appointed strong allies for Gilgamesh, sons of one mother, and stationed them in the mountain caves."

// "...the lecture that no one had the heart to tell him he was in the wrong classroom," Blair chattered as he and Jim entered the bullpen. The room became quiet as the detectives focused almost too innocently on their work.

"You'd think someone would've suggested he retire by n..." Jim stopped dead cold at his desk, staring at the ... thing occupying it. Behind him, Blair struggled against the laughter rising in his throat.

Jim slowly picked up the large stuffed raccoon. Around its neck was an i.d. plate similar to the one used for mug shots. Just two days earlier, an investigation into the robbery of a jewelry store had revealed the culprit to in fact be a raccoon living in the building's basement and air duct system. Somehow, the small creature had shorted the wires of the security camera before making off with several shiny objects, thus sending the investigating officer (namely Jim) on a three day wild goose-chase (or, as Blair had pointed out, a three-day wild mammal chase).

Jim stared at the stuffed animal for a long time while Blair slowly lost the battle against his laughter.

"I hope," Jim finally said to the room at large, "that somebody read this thing its rights."

The resulting laughter was tinged with not a little relief. They'd never actually done something like this to Ellison before. Oh, he was an okay guy, but he'd always been so _serious._ Over the last year or so, though, he'd seemed to lighten up. Most of the detectives figured it was the kid's influence. With somebody like Sandburg hanging around, Jim would have to lighten up in self-defense.

The room settled into its normal buzz of work, and Jim handed the raccoon to Blair.

"Gosh, thanks," the young man said with good-natured sarcasm.

Jim grinned wickedly, dropping his voice. "Something to keep you company on those cold, lonely nights.

Blair returned the grin, speaking so lowly only Jim could hear. "Already have that, thanks." //

The bullpen in the Major Crimes Unit was a flurry of activity, but there was little noise. Throughout the open room were tight, drawn faces that would occasionally turn in the direction of an empty desk, only to look away quickly. Many of the detectives' shifts had ended hours ago, but no one spoke of going home.

The Chief of Police had stopped by earlier, as had the Mayor, who'd held a press conference on the front steps of the Precinct. It wasn't every day, after all, that Cascade's Officer of the Year was shot in a local parking garage during his off hours. At any other time, Jim's fellow police officers might have made remarks about grandstanding and publicity-seeking. Right now, however, they couldn't be bothered. They had more important things to worry about.

**********

"When the gods created Gilgamesh they gave him a perfect body. Shamash the glorious sun endowed him with beauty, Adad the god of the storm endowed him with courage, the great gods made his beauty perfect surpassing all others, terrifying like a great wild bull. Two thirds they made him god and one third man."

// "Beautiful," Blair murmured against his lover's chest, raising his head at the sigh he received in response. "What? You want a better adjective? How about blinding? Mouth-watering? Looks-like-he-should-be-preserved-in- bronze? Okay, that one was really a phrase, but I think it gets points for acc..."

Blair was interrupted by another mouth fastening on his. After a moment, Jim broke away and gathered Blair closer in his arms with a second sigh. "Sometimes I look at you, then I look at me, and I don't understand how you can call me beautiful."

"Well, because you are would be the obvious answer."

"I just, well, I see the way people look at you, and I know, I _know_ you could do better."

Blair raised himself on one elbow so he could look Jim straight in the eye. "You know, we have _go_ * to work on this self-esteem problem you have. There is no one better for me than you. No one. Sometimes when I wake up in your bed, I'm still in awe that you let me in. I love you, and if I have to spend the next forty years proving that to you, I will gladly do so."

Jim looked as if he were about to protest, then his face broke into a slightly wicked grin. "Proof, huh? And what exactly would you offer as evidence?"

"Oh," Blair said, returning the grin, "I'm sure we could think of something."//

Blair jerked out of his memories and tossed a rueful smile at his unseeing partner. "Sorry. Didn't mean to leave you in suspense on only the second paragraph. Just thinking of someone else I know who's two-thirds god and one-third man."

Blair didn't even realize he was waiting for Jim's usual self-deprecating reply until the silence had stretched for several minutes. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he continued with a false cheer that wouldn't have fooled a total stranger, much less Jim, "So, anyway. 'In Uruk he built walls, a great rampart...' "

Officer Pfiester listened to the low voice as it read. He caught only half the words, and didn't understand half of those, but he heard the voice, and for the third time that evening reminded himself to call every single person he loved as soon as he got off duty.

**********

"When Anu had heard their lamentation, the gods cried to Aruru, the goddess of creation, 'You made him, O Aruru, now create his equal; let it be as like him as his own reflection, his second self, stormy heart for stormy heart. Let them contend together and leave Uruk in quiet.' "

// Simon stared at his friend for a long moment. He was not sure if his surprise was at Jim's revelation, or the fact that his revelation really wasn't all that surprising.

"I'm not telling you this to warn you of any upcoming announcements in the bullpen," Jim said dryly. "We both figure that our private life is private, and, well, neither one of us has any real illusions about how we'd be treated. It's just that you're my friend, and although I know you'd rather give up smoking than admit it, you're his friend, too. So we thought you should know."

Simon looked away for a moment, then back at the man sitting across from him. "You're sure about this?"

"I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

"It's just I've never seen you even express interest in, well..."

Jim smiled self-mockingly. "Blair quoted a lot of eighteen-letter words at me, something about what he calls the homosocial bond taking on erotic dimensions, and started listing other cultures where it's perfectly common. All I know is it happened. And I can only lie to myself for so long."

"Well," Simon said, feeling the solid ground that had crumbled underneath him just minutes before start to return, "you seem to know what you're doing. For what it's worth, Sheila always said you two made a cute couple."

Simon got more than a little satisfaction from the expression on Jim's face. //

Simon stared at the report lying open on his desk, knowing he hadn't read a word of in the ten minutes he'd been staring at it. Investigating a shooting like this was always difficult: no weapon, no witnesses (except for Blair, who'd been pushed to the ground before he could see anything), no immediately obvious motive. It was even harder when the victim was a cop with an arrest record as high as Jim Ellison's. Brown and Ryf were checking out his current cases, seeing if maybe someone might be worried enough to try to halt the investigation by taking out the investigating officer. At least five other detectives were pouring over Ellison's past cases. But there were just so *many.* While no one had recently been released from prison, there were always friends, families, colleagues who would be willing to pull a trigger in the name of revenge. Hell, Colonel Oliver alone probably had enough associates to keep them busy for a month.

_This would be so much easier if Jim were awake. Blair said he knew the shot was coming, so maybe he saw the shooter._

A knock interrupted his thoughts, and Brown entered, looking tired and discouraged.

"Anything?" Simon asked, seeing the answer on his face.

"Nothing. The Etweiler robbery was a standard smash-and-run, nothing worth shooting a cop over, and besides, he didn't have any solid leads. I thought maybe that extortion case he was closing, but the perp's in jail in Portland, and by all accounts, doesn't have a friend in the world, much less someone who could do the job for him. Sorry, Captain."

Simon made a frustrated noise and closed the file he hadn't yet read. "Dammit, there has _got_ to be something we're overlooking. Get me the crime scene report again."

There had to be _something_ he was missing.

**********

"So the goddess conceived an image in her mind, and it was the stuff of Anu of the firmament. She dipped her hands in the water and pinched off clay, she let it fall in the wilderness, and noble Enkidu was created. There was virtue in him of the god of war, of Ninurta himself. His body was rough, he had long hair like a woman's; it waved like the hair of Nisba, the goddess of corn."

// With a frustrated noise, Blair shuffled papers and books around the coffee table, snatching up a ponytail holder that had been hidden among the mess.

"Problem?" Jim asked calmly from his chair.

"It's just in the _way_ man," Blair said, pulling his hair back. "You know, sometimes it's all I can do not to just go get it chopped off. I mean, I know I'd regret it in an hour, but god, the temptation..." He stopped as Jim's hand halted his progress in fastening his hair. "What?"

Jim tossed the ponytail holder aside as he sat on the sofa and began gently running his hands through Blair's hair, the heel of one hand barely caressing his cheek, the other brushing over his ear. 

"Oh, no fair, man, you know I can't think when you do..." 

He released a slight gasp as Jim's mouth lightly touched his throat, the hands in his hair gently titling his head back. "Okay, I get the point, yeah, cutting my hair would be _bad._ " Now Jim's mouth had moved to his ear. "Jim, I really need to get this lecture ready for..." 

Jim's tongue found that spot right behind his earlobe. "Aw, Hell. I can wing it." Blair blindly swept the books from the couch and fell back, pulling Jim with him.// 

" 'His body was covered with matted hair like Samuqan's, the god of cattle'." Blair glanced down at the hairs peeking out of his thermal shirt. "This is sounding familiar. 'He was innocent of mankind; he knew nothing of the cultivated land.' Okay, maybe not so familiar. I mean, you're the behavioral throwback to a pre-civilized breed of man in this partnership." 

_C'mon, Big Guy, that's your cue to wake up and slam me against a wall. Or wake up and make a crack about neo-hippy witch doctors. Or just wake up. Please. Wake up._

"Okay, "Blair took a deep breath. " 'Enkidu ate grass in the hills with the gazelle and lurked with wild beasts at the water holes'." 

********** 

"The counsellors blessed Gilgamesh and warned him, 'Do not trust too much in your own strength. Be watchful, restrain your blows at first. The one who goes in front protects his companion; the good guide who knows the way guards his friend." 

//"So, do you want to talk about it?" 

Jim took a long pull from his beer and stared at the television for a long moment. Simon sighed. Jim Ellison has never been very talkative, but this was ridiculous. The basketball game was half-over, and Simon didn't think Jim had said twenty words the whole evening. With Sandburg at some Anthropology lecture, Simon had been left with the bulk of the conversational duty, and it wasn't a duty he exactly excelled at. 

"Want another beer?" Jim finally asked. 

Simon made a mental translation from Jim-speak: 'Yes, I want to talk about it, but I plan to stall as long as I can.' "Sure," he played along. 

Jim handed him the cold bottle and returned to his seat on the couch. He was silent for another minute. 

"You're not still brooding over the whole Zeller business, are you?" Simon knew that hearing those shots while he was still three floors away from his partner had spooked him far more than the detective would admit, but Jim usually got over that sort of thing much faster. 

"No, it's not that. See, it's just ... there's this decision I've kind of been putting off. It's not something I can really talk about, but it's a pretty big decision. And the thing with Zeller made me realize I can't put off making this decision forever." Jim took a long pull from his beer. "The truth is, I think I've made it, but I still have to find the guts to carry it out." 

"Well, if you need any help with anything, just ask." 

"Thanks, Simon," Jim replied with a grin, "but somehow I don't think you can help me with this one." // 

Simon shook himself from his memories, smiling a bit at how blind he'd been to the implications of that conversation. It was only three weeks later that Jim had come into his office to gently explain that he and Sandburg had become, in Jim's word, "involved." 

_Like they weren't plenty involved before._

Simon looked across the parking garage to where both Blair and forensics had said the shot had most likely come from. He wasn't sure why he had come here, back to the scene, except for the nagging feeling that he was overlooking something, something vital. 

He moved to stand where Jim had been standing when he'd shouted the warning to Sandburg, and tried to remember the kid's distraught statement. 

"Jim shouted for me to get down, and then he sort of grabbed me and turned us both around while we were falling and then we were lying on the ground and he wasn't moving and I tried to push him off and there was all this blood..." 

"Yeah, well, I felt bad for the guy, finding contradictory evidence so close to being finished, but the simple fact is, he _did_ falsify his results, and I wasn't going to just say nothing and let him pass off false information. You just don't do that: it, like, corrupts the whole field." 

Simon swore under his breath and started back for his car, already dialing his cell phone. 

**********

"Ninsun answered, 'That axe, which you saw, which drew you so powerfully like the love of a woman, that is the comrade that I give to you, and he will come in his strength like one of the hosts of heaven. He is the brave companion who rescues his friend in necessity'." 

// "Dammit, will you slow down for a minute!" Blair quickened his stride almost into a run to keep up with his taller partner. "You might as well slow down, because we are _going_ to talk about this no matter how fast you walk." 

"There's nothing to talk about, Chief." Jim's mouth was a tight line, his jaw so clenched Blair half-expected to hear teeth cracking. 

"Like hell there isn't! I thought we were past all this." Blair felt his anger surging again, remembering how his world had nearly shattered when he'd heard the shots from inside the building and realized that Jim had gone in without him. 

"It was a dangerous situation. There was no reason for you to go in." 

"No reason? You zone out on paint fumes and nearly get shot, and there was no reason for me to go in?" 

"I snapped out of it in time." 

"Yeah, only because the bullet that snapped you out of it went two inches wide. And what do you mean, dangerous situation? Like meeting three drug dealers when the only one of us who carries a gun is *blind* isn't dangerous? Like investigating a possible murder on an oil rig isn't..." 

"I get the point, Chief." Jim stopped walking as the reached the truck, but did not unlock his door, instead leaning against it and looking up at the cloud-filled sky. 

"So what's different now?" 

Jim looked back down to meet his lover's eyes. "You know damn well what's different." 

Blair sighed and leaned against the truck by Jim's side, his anger fleeing from those blue eyes. "Look," he began carefully, "we knew this wouldn't be easy. But there's no more and no less chance of me getting hurt than there was before we," Blair looked around the garage, "before things changed. Either I'm your partner, or I'm not. It's that simple." 

"That simple, huh?" Jim shook his head. "Sandburg, I'd hate to see your definition of complicated. All right. I was wrong. I don't know if I can promise I won't do it again, but, well, I promise I'll work on it." 

"I can live with that. Now," Blair reached into Jim's jacket pocket to fish out his keys, "whaddya say we go home so you can make it up to me?"// 

Blair shifted the paperback to his left hand, picking up Jim's with his right. "You know, I did understand your wanting to protect me. I always did. You have no idea how many times I thought ... how often I worried, how many classes I barely heard a word of because I knew you were on a stakeout somewhere without me." Blair laughed bitterly. "And after all that, you get shot when I'm two feet away, in the back that I'm supposed to be watching." 

He looked back down at the book. " 'Brave companion who rescues his friend in necessity.' Yeah." 

********** 

"When Ishtar heard this she fell into a bitter rage, she went up too high heaven. Her tears poured down in front of her father Anu, and Antram her mother. She said, 'My father, Gilgamesh has heaped insults on me, he has told over all my abominable behavior, my foul and hideous acts'." 

// "The witness is excused." 

Simon watched as Blair stepped down from the witness stand. The kid was clearly exhausted, but he'd held up well. Kincaid's lawyer had carefully ignored the anthropologist's description of the actual events, knowing it was probably counterproductive to attack the testimony of a trained observer, and instead had attacked Sandburg's character. He'd inquired about the grad student's politics, hinting that his "leftist leanings" might have caused him to exaggerate the crimes of a right-wing militia. He'd asked if Blair had been under any "chemical influences" that day, pointing out that he hadn't taken the scheduled drug screening until nearly a week later. He'd reminded everyone that Blair had lied in the precinct, hinting that his honesty was not to be trusted. That last had clearly cost him points with the jury, who were apparently bright enough to know the difference between lying to save one's life and lying on a witness stand. 

Blair had answered all of the lawyer's questions with a calm and composure Simon hadn't really known he possessed. The kid never faltered, stammered, or cracked an inappropriate joke, as he so often did at the station. Then again, Simon mused, he generally only saw Sandburg when the anthropologist was completely out of his element, surrounded by cops who at best were slowly developing a grudging respect for him and at worst were overtly hostile. On the witness stand, in front of a jury that was, if not terribly impressed by the hair and earrings, clearly impressed by both his actions and his credentials, Sandburg seemed far more confidant. 

As Sandburg returned to his seat next to Jim, Simon gave him a slight (but only a slight) smile of approval. It was important that the kid know he'd done well, but there was no point in overdoing it.// 

Simon watched as the short, balding man was led from his home. The officers weren't exactly gentle, but the rage which was usually vented on a cop-shooter seemed absent. This one just seemed so pathetic, sniveling that he hadn't meant to shoot Ellison, it was that rat fink hippy brat he was trying to kill. He'd only done it when Ellison was around because he'd figured they'd assume Ellison was the intended target. That particular remark had been the one to drive Simon from the room, and Brown, who'd been cuffing Dr. Axelrod, had handed the professor off to a uniform cop. The notion that Sandburg's death would have hit them any less hard had struck nerves with most of the officers present: some were offended because it wasn't true, others embarrassed because it was. 

"We found the gun," Taggart informed him. The bomb squad captain had specifically asked to be in on the arrest when he'd learned the actual target of the shooting was Sandburg. Jim was his friend, but Blair had impressed Taggart deeply in their two-year acquaintance. Quite simply, he thought Sandburg was a great kid, and he took the notion that someone would try to end his life very personally. "All this because Sandburg reported some fuzzy research?" 

Simon shook his head, not so much in negation as in sympathy with Taggart's disbelief. "Apparently, it was a pretty serious ethics violation, one of the few things the University could revoke his tenure for. It would've pretty much ended his career." Simon shook his head again, this time in disgust. "Still doesn't seem worth a life, but, hell, you heard those stories Sandburg told about grad students gunning down their committees over failed papers." 

"Yeah, well, you're right: it's not worth a life." The two men were silent as the car carrying Axelrod drove away. "So," Taggart asked quietly, "who's gonna tell Sandburg?"

_**********_

"Anu, Enlil, Ea and heavenly Shamash took counsel together, and Anu said to Enlil, 'Because they have killed the Bull of Heaven, and because they have killed Humbada who guarded the Cedar Mountain one of the two must die.' The glorious Shamash answered the hero Enlil, 'It was by your command they killed the Bull of Heaven and killed Humbada, and must Enkidu die although innocent?' " 

// "Okay," Blair conceded as they made their way through the parking garage, "so the premise requires you to suspend your disbelief about twenty stories up. But one you do that, it's an awesome flick." 

"You're telling me that all those *trained* law enforcement professionals can't tell that their boss has suddenly had a personality transplant?" Jim argued. 

"Oh, like they're going to suspect that he switched faces with an international hit man! C'mon, man, how many times have we seen people accept ridiculous explanations for your seeing or smelling something you shouldn't be able to? People will accept the most bizarre stuff as long as they can come up with *some* explanation that doesn't require them to question reality as they know it." 

"If you say so, Chief. I still.." Jim stopped speaking, his eyes focused somewhere across the garage. 

"Jim, what..." 

"Get down!" At the same moment he shouted, Jim grabbed Blair and swung them both around so that he was sheltering the smaller man as they fell to the ground. 

Blair struggled to regain the breathe that had been knocked out of him in the fall, only to realize a heavy weight on his chest was preventing him from drawing in a full breath. "Jim? Jim, I can't breathe, here." 

Blair put his hands on Jim's shoulders to push him up, only to stare in horror as he drew them back covered with blood.// 

Blair closed the book. Stupid. He'd read this story a hundred times; he had known how the story of Gilgamesh and Enkidu ended when he started reading. Enkidu was struck down by the gods because he and Gilgamesh had gotten too big for their britches, had frightened the gods with their power. Gilgamesh mourned bitterly, realized his own mortality, went on a quest for everlasting life, only to lose it just as he gained wisdom. 

"Great," Blair said. "And thus begins the pattern of the sidekick dying halfway through the story. You know," he said to his partner, "you're bucking thousands of years of literary tradition, here. The sidekick is the one that dies. Jonathan died, David lived; Patroclus died, Achilles lived; hell, even Robin died and Batman lived. Okay, so he found another sidekick and got his back broken later, but I'm telling you, man, it's a pattern, and you're wrecking it." 

Blair heard the hysteria creeping into his own voice and took a deep breath. "You know, I've never believed all that stuff about how if people are too happy or too smart or too whatever that somehow the gods will get jealous and smite them. I always figured it there really was a higher power, it couldn't possibly be that petty. But I gotta tell you, man, you're testing my faith, here." 

Blair took Jim's hand in both of his, willing those eyes that had looked at him a thousand times with concern, exasperation, lust, friendship, and love to just *open.* 

_Please, Big Guy. I don't want to be the one left behind to tell this story, man._

Simon was standing outside Jim's room, trying desperately to think of a way to tell Blair that he, not Jim, had been the intended target, trying to think of a way to keep it from driving the poor kind the rest of the way over the edge, when he heard the shout. 

"Jim! What...okay, calm down. Somebody get in here! Where the hell is that call button?" 

Simon rushed into the room right ahead of the nurse from the nearby station. _Please God don't let him die._

His prayer was cut off by the sight of Sandburg standing by Jim's bed clutching his hand, a brilliant smile lighting up his face. It only took a moment to see why: Jim's eyes were open and alert, and his hand was gripping Sandburg's so tightly that the cords on his arms were standing out. 

"Mr. Ellison?" the nurse asked calmly. "Can you hear me? Blink twice if you can." Two blinks. "Okay, now, you're on a respirator, and you need to relax and not fight it. I have to get a doctor in here to disconnect it." 

The next ten minutes were a flurry of activity, doctors and nurses surrounding the bed and checking various instruments, all while Blair held Jim's and spoke softly to the detective. Simon couldn't make out the words, but they seemed to be having the desired effect. 

As the respirator tube was finally removed, Jim released Blair's hand and gripped his shirt, pulling the younger man down to him. For a moment, Simon thought Jim might have decided not to keep his private life quite so private, but he only whispered something in his lover's ear. 

Blair stood and grinned down at him, gripping his hand one last time before stepping back to let the hospital staff work. 

"Dare I ask what he said?" Simon asked. 

Blair looked up at him, the grin still lighting his face. "He said the gods can stick it." 

"So Gilgamesh and Enkidu embraced, and their friendship was sealed." 

**Author's Note:**

> Special disclaimer: The Epic of Gilgamesh doesn't really belong to anyone anymore, but the translation I am using belongs to Penguin Classics.  
> The following is dedicated to Professor Eugene A*****, who said *TEOG* was about "male bonding" and would be horrified with what I have done with it here.  
> Many thanks to to Nita for beta reading.  
> If the formatting is confusing, don't hesitate to say so. I fiddled a bit, but had some trouble with the sectioning.


End file.
